


Looks Good on You

by Sweatandwoe



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Armour on, Creampie, Din Djarin's Helmet Stays on During Sex, Dirty Talk, Doggy Style, F/M, Kinda, Kinda naked female and clothed male, Lingerie, Mando has a filthy mouth, Not Beta Read, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rough Sex, Shameless Smut, Smut, Swearing, Vaginal Fingering, Wall Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-12
Updated: 2020-11-12
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:21:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27519805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sweatandwoe/pseuds/Sweatandwoe
Summary: “What,” his voice came out slow and gravel-like after an eternity of just staring at you, “are you wearing?”---Reader decides to put on some lingerie, just in time for the Mandalorian to get back home. Smut. Shameless smut.
Relationships: Din Djarin/Reader, Din Djarin/You
Comments: 7
Kudos: 370





	Looks Good on You

**Author's Note:**

> first time writing and posting ever with not just sharing with a friend, so please let me know what ya think!

The Razor Crest was quiet. The child asleep in their pod and Mando would be out gathering supplies for another hour at least. It meant you could do it. You licked your lips, and with your heart beating in your throat, you stood. 

You moved down towards the small box where you kept your things, hidden under the armory. It contained some new set of clothes, a datapad, a lightened stash of credits, and of course, the package. Your fingers ran over the box, a lump forming in your throat. You weren’t even sure why you had bought the damn thing, had spent so many credits on it. Your thumbs ran over the edge of the box, prying it open slightly to look inside. 

Would he even like it? You thought it was pretty, maybe even a little bit sexy but – well. You swallowed, lifting the small sheer nightgown. It’d fall just past your hips, not even meeting the matching stockings. You knew of course because this was the second time, you’d be trying it on. 

The first time it was to make sure it fit, and originally intended to show him it. The problem was he took too long, and you had overthought yourself out of wearing the damn thing. It felt silly. It still felt silly. He preferred you just naked when it came to your time together. He had shown little interest in you in clothes when it came to sex. 

Your hands ran over the soft material. It was some sort of silk, but you didn’t know what. It had felt so nice on your skin. Showed off the natural curves you had. You had felt sexy the last time you worn it. Felt like you could’ve marched up to him, and gotten in his lap like you thought of doing so many times. And then you went and had thought and worried, and in the end just laid in his cot naked when he came back. 

It still feels a little foolish. You and Mando, you hadn’t talked about this. You could’ve brought it up, but it still seemed silly. The both of you rarely talked about your own relationship, only making sure the other was okay. Neither of you had brought up feelings hadn’t been brought up. The last time you had asked about your relationship seriously had just been if he was seeing anyone else. Which in hindsight was silly considering you were the only one on his ship besides the green tiny. You could still remember when you had asked. 

You could recall him standing there, helmet tilted. The question meant to be casual, but the Mando was rarely that. You should’ve known better. 

He came to stand before you, kneeling where you had been sitting. pretending to read a datapad. “No one else.” And then you don’t really remember what else happened, because all you can recall is his gloved hands on your thighs, modulated voice in your ear as he called you Mesh’la. “Why would I need anyone else. I’ve got you such a pretty girl right here.” And he pushed you against the metal floor, ground his hips against you, growled in your ear and – 

Your head shook. If you kept thinking like that, you were not going to put it on. But you were sure Mando wouldn’t mind coming back to the ship to see you in your regular clothes, hands down your pants and begging for him. You knew he wouldn’t mind that. Had done it before. 

You lifted the gown a little higher, face warming. You could wear your regular clothes, but you wanted – you wanted to look special. Wanted to see his reaction – or well, hear his reaction. 

After a few more minutes of internal pro versus con weighing, you moved to the fresher, nightgown, and stockings in tow. Slipping off your clothes, a quick glance at your naked form before carefully slipping the sheer gown on. 

It showed everything, the tiny piece of clothing hid nothing. Your hands moved to cup your breasts for a moment, enjoying the soft silk pressed against them. You imagined Mando’s bare hand grabbing them. Fuck. You may still need to touch yourself before he got home, maybe let him come home to find you touching yourself while you wore this. 

The stockings wear next. Sliding them up, they fell halfway up your thigh. Sheer like the gown was. You pressed your thighs together and glanced into the mirror. 

You had no idea if Mando would like it. He always just seemed eager to get you naked, while he’d be clad in armour. Would he rip it off you? He’d done that once before, ripping off your underwear, so he could slip gloved fingers against you. How he pressed his helmet to your forehead while he slipped two fingers into your wet cunt, “Such a sweet girl, _Cyar’ika._ ”

Your legs squeezed together again, face warmer. You could feel the heat between your legs, drifting towards your lower belly. Kriff. 

You were out of the fresher soon, clothes in the basket. You hadn’t put any panties on, and just moved. First double checking the baby, making sure the little one was still asleep and making sure his pod was closed and tucked away from the cot. Just in case. The next was climbing up to the cockpit. You glanced out the window, first trying to make sure it was safe. And then glancing around for the beskar covered man. At first you didn’t see anyone and felt yourself relax. You had time, to prepare a bit more. Maybe work up some more confidence, and some imaginary scenarios. 

Then the hull door opened. 

Your heart sped up, hearing the metal footsteps of the Mandalorian. He dropped something heavy on the ground, and then you heard him leave the ship once more. Maybe you could slip away and grab your clothes?

The sound of him returning, made your stomach flip. Warmth flooded it but the nerves. He was going to see you like this. You couldn’t hide it now. You listened as the hull door closed, then as Mando began to organize what he brought back. It was usually your job to help, and he’d go looking for you afterwards. With a lump in your throat, you descended the later. 

He hadn’t noticed you yet, as he moved to set down a large crate. Gods he was strong, you could see the slight tightness in the arms of his tunic as he moved things around. “We’ll be good for the next month.” He started slowly, placing a satchel down next to a less full one. You could hear a small hitch in his breath, as though he were about to say something else. 

But then he had turned to you and everything seemed to stop. You could hear your heartbeat, pounding in your ears as the helmet was turned to you. Your eyes remained on his helmet. It remained turned to you, silent and you watched before he finally moved. Just to clench one fist against his thigh. 

“What,” his voice came out slow and gravel-like after an eternity of just staring at you, “are you wearing?” 

Wordlessly you smoothed down the hem of the sheer gown. “Do you like it?” Your voice quiet, unsteady as you watched him. There was no answer, he only stood there staring for what seemed like ever. You were almost concerned and then he was suddenly moving, suddenly in front of you. 

He moved forward, going, and going, forcing you to back up until your back was against the wall. Cool metal going against your barely covered skin. A slight shiver went through you. He was silent “Mando?”

He paused, moving to set both arms on either side of you, his legs spread. It was like he was trying to make sure you could not escape him, not that’d you want to. You weren’t sure if you’d ever want to escape him. Gods you could feel how warm it felt in your core just from the thought of him, just from his voice. “You wore this,” you can hear the growl now, deep, and low in his voice,” for me?” 

You gave a small nod. “Do you like it?” You asked again. One of his hands came down to the hem of your gown and to your surprise, held it delicately. Rubbing it between his gloved fingers, before running down along your thigh. Fingers playing with the band of your stocking, before it slid up to your hip. 

“You look beautiful, _Cyar’ika._ ” His voice is still growly, not matching the tender way his hand ran along your hip. You could feel yourself relax, face warm still but that was for other reasons. For a moment, all he did was run his gloved fingers over the soft material at your hips. “Did you buy more?”  
You shook your head, and he lowered his helmet to press against your forehead. “I’ll treat this one nicely.” He growled and moved to lower his hand between your legs. “But your panties will-” 

He paused, rubbing his fingers against your slit. A soft noise emerged from your throat, and there was a pause for a moment as Mando seemed to register that you weren’t wearing underwear. “Fuck, _Mesh’la._ ” 

His helmet pressed harder as the one hand on your hips moved behind, cupping your ass. He gave a harsh squeeze, enough to make you gasp. He lifted you so easily, with just one hand. The other was moving to rub against your slit.

“Put this on just for me.” He was against your ear, the modulator unable to hide the growl as he stroked you. A moan broke from your lips, right next to his helmet. “Such a sweet girl - a sweet slut. But only for me.” He owned your body, he knew that. He knew he could only ask and come home after a mission and you’d be waiting in his bunk, legs spread and waiting. And that sometimes he didn’t even have to ask, you would just be there. Ready for him. 

Your moans turned into a soft cry, as he dipped two fingers into your wet cunt. You raised one hand to bite the back of it, scared of waking the little one. He pumped them, slow for the first few thrusts, before he began to speed up. You could both hear the wet noise of his fingers slipping in between. He groaned inside of his helmet, letting his fingers curl inside of you. 

“Tell me, _Cyar’ika._ Who - Who do you belong to?” You didn’t answer, moaning as he curled his fingers right against your spot and your thighs started to shake. The warmth in your belly spreading further. 

He stopped, raising his slick covered gloves up to your face. He moved your hand out of the way, and gripped your jaw. You could almost taste your own wetness. “Who do you belong to?” 

“You. M-Mando, I’m yours.” You were whimpering, legs trembling as you sought out some relief. One hooked around his hip to grind your cunt against his thigh. The beskar was cold and you felt a shudder ran over you as it pressed against the bare skin. You should’ve been used to it now, but each time it seemed to be a nice surprise. 

He pressed his fingers to your lips. “Good girl. Now suck.” You opened your mouth, letting them in and swirling your tongue around them. You could taste yourself on his fingers, sucking your own juices off them. He let out a groan after a moment and slipped them back out. 

“What should I do with you, _Cyar’ika?”_ He asked, grinding his thigh back against your cunt. “Should I fuck your pretty mouth first?” You gasped as he spoke, and he moved both hands back to your hips. Keeping you lifted and helping to grind you against the cold metal on his leg. “Or should I f-fuck your dripping pussy? Should I,” he cut off with a groan as your thigh brushed his cock. You could feel the hard, thick length under his clothes. 

“Pussy, please.” Your fingers dug into the unmendable pauldrons. Squeezing tightly, as you ground your hips down. The metal was cold, but it felt like a nice shock in contrast from your hot, wet cunt. 

One hand moved away, moving quickly to get out his cock. Thick and hot, it pressed to your thigh, as he moved you off his own. “You left a mess on the beskar.” He noted with a slight tilt of the helmet to his leg, pressing you against the wall. You couldn’t say anything, just whimper over the loss of anything against your pussy. “Legs up.” You lifted them, and he moved to put them against his waist. You arms went to his shoulders. “Good girl.” He gave one thigh a light smack, before he ran his hand over the stocking. 

Then you felt him, the hard press of his cock. Hot, and thick and fit you perfectly. He flicked his wrist twice, a low groan leaving him, before he let the tip rub against your clit, before sliding it down your folds. A low whine builds in your throat and he gave a soft shush, before the head of him slipped inside. Maker, he felt so good. 

“Kriffing – f-fuck.” He groaned, helmet pressing into the wall next to your head. He gave one long thrust, until you could feel his balls against your ass. “So fucking wet.” He pulled out, maybe halfway before he gave one hard thrust, filling you completely again. 

“Mando,” it sounded like a sob that left your lips. And many followed, as he began to thrust heavily into you. Each one slow, precise. “Gonna cum on my cock.” His voice was low, and hot in your ear. “Make a mess on it.” His thrusts quickened, just slightly, just enough for you to notice. For you to whimper over it, have yourself tighten on him over it. “ _Cyar’ika_ , t-touch yourself.” 

You lowered one trembling hand down, moving to rub a finger against your clit. Giving it a slight tap. It wasn’t long, the warmth in your stomach seemed to burst. A hard thrust, and then there were stars behind your eyes. He fucked you through it, but he was slowing down. 

Your legs shook, and you raised your hand. Gasping, choking on air as he kept fucking you. You could hear how wet you are. With each thrust, you could hear the wet sound of his dick sliding in and out of you. “F-Fuck.” Your head fell on a pauldron, it felt nice and cool against the warmed skin. 

“Good girl.” His thrusts slowed for a moment, and his hands went to your ass. Gripping you firmly, he lifted you up, not caring for the whine you gave as his cock slipped from in you. He carried you over to his cot, dropping you on top of it. “Hands and knees. Quickly, _Mesh’la._ ” 

You moved, found it difficult with how shaky your legs were. You got onto your knees, and he did not wait for you to raise yourself on your hands. His own hands came onto your thighs, spreading them open and tilting your legs. 

You felt the barest brush of his cock against your folds, before he joined you again, in one hard thrust. You gasped, and he groaned. His hips snapping against you, his hands at your hips, pushing up the gown. “Looks so good o-on you. Wrapped like a gift for m-me.” He groaned, before you felt the grip on your hips. “Gonna cum for me again, pretty girl?” One hand snaked away from your hip, going to your clit. 

You couldn’t hide the cry, not even if you wanted to. Your cunt was so sensitive after the first orgasm, that he easily began to draw the second. He rubbed at your clit and continued to pound you. His cock rubbing against all the best spots inside of you. And – 

“Cum. Cum for me.” You did, with a louder cry, one that had him lift his hand from your clit so fast, to press your face into the bed. Just enough to muffle your cry. 

His thrusts began to go erratic as you clenched around him. Uneven, and you felt his grip on your hip turn iron. “Gonna c-cum. Gonna f-fill you. G-gonna make you a m-mess.” He growled out, his voice shaking as you felt the sudden rush as he reached his own peak. He filled you, thrusting as he did so to make you into even more of a mess. 

The cold beskar of his helmet pressed into your back for a moment. Almost instinctively, he ran his hands over your hips, rubbing circles into where he had gripped you. 

You both laid like that for a moment before he finally drew himself up. You let out a whimper as he slipped out. “Such a mess.” He breathed, and you realized he was just standing there. Admiring the mess, he had made of your cunt and the rest of you. He moved to draw a hand over your stocking clad thigh. “Didn’t rip it.” It sounded almost prideful, as though not ripping your clothing off of you was a great source of accomplishment. You could only lay your hand over his own for a moment, and he let your fingers rub over his gauntlet. 

He moved after a few minutes, while you laid back on his cot, only trying to relax for a moment. By the time he had come back with a cloth, you were out. 

In the morning, you almost forget about the lingerie, besides tucking it towards the bottom of the laundry basket. And then you returned it to the box, but when you did you saw three new packages and a note. 

Gingerly you picked up the note and read it. 

_I think these will look good on you too._

**Author's Note:**

> also am thirsty af for this tin can man; pls give me more prompts on tumblr @sweatandwoe


End file.
